Silenced
by devilluck
Summary: Merlin cannot talk to Arthur until the time is right. Reincarnation fic. Mild slash.


Title: Silenced

Author: Devilluck

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mild slash. Angst. Think that's it.

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Summary: Merlin cannot talk to Arthur until the time is right. Reincarnation fic.

A/N: Written in a very short space of time and unbetaed. Apologies for any mistakes/plot-holes/confusion!

*****

The forces of nature really had it in for him.

At first, Merlin had railed against it. He had fought against the powers that prevented him from talking to Arthur, only to be forced into silence by things beyond his control, watching as his King walked past him again with complete disinterest. It had happened each time the other man had been reborn. Until Arthur hit his thirties, he showed no recognition towards Merlin at all. Not even as his neighbor. It was if Merlin was a constant stranger, someone he saw in the street, and never gave a second thought about. No matter how hard he tried, Merlin could never break the inflicted silence. He watched Arthur grow older, desperately waiting for the day when he would remember.

*****

It took years (lifetimes, in fact, five of Arthur's) for Merlin to realise. That Arthur would be reborn to save Albion had been known; that he would only be granted his memories a year before was not. It seemed that whatever fates there were had decreed that Arthur did not need Merlin until he was to become King again.

When Merlin understood that Arthur's memories, and subsequent death, were triggered by himself, he immediately left the country. Guilt steadily crept, threatening to consume him. If he hadn't been around Arthur, if he hadn't tried so hard, then Arthur would have never had his memories returned. Unwilling to be around Arthur anymore, haunted by images of the other man's many deaths, he resolved to stay as far away as possible. He took a lover, a gentle woman who was as far away from Arthur as he could get, and settled down. Merlin used her as a means to forget, a way to hide from the tingle that told him Arthur had been reborn. He anchored himself to her, trying to ignore the steadily increasing tug on his heart and magic.

The day Arthur turned thirty three, Merlin woke up shaking, his eyes fiery. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard, gripping the sheets underneath him so hard that they tore. He could barely feel the touch on his arm; all his focus was on preventing his magic from reaching out to Arthur. Merlin didn't know how long he lay there, body trembling, almost overwhelmed with the need to be at Arthur's side. Eventually his magic ebbed, and he relaxed fractionally, palms trickling blood from his nails. Opening his eyes, he didn't expect to see blue sky above him. He sat up cautiously; weakened from fighting his magic for so long – and losing, apparently. For Arthur stood before him, slight frown marring his features before recognition struck. Merlin cursed heavily and put his head in his hands, blaming his wet eyes on exhaustion. After all these years, despite all his struggle, he had failed to keep Arthur safe. Arthur's death was on his shoulders.

Merlin had never hated his magic more.

*****

After his attempt at saving Arthur from death, Merlin understood why he could not speak to his former lover. He had tried to abort destiny too many times, and fate needed Arthur for its own purposes. He resigned himself to watching Arthur grow from a distance, waiting for the day when he would be called on.

Merlin was caught unawares. Arthur was barely a man, really still a boy, yet his face creased up with confusion when he bumped into Merlin in the street.

"Are you-is your-Merlin?"

Merlin looked at him in bewilderment for a brief second. This Arthur had not yet filled out properly, was too young for the destiny which lay ahead. He shook his head frantically. "No, nonono."

Arthur looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, an expression so familiar that Merlin could cry, because this really was his Arthur. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin. I think I'd recognise my own manservant, don't you?"

Merlin held a shaking hand to Arthur's face, framing his cheek in the palm of his hand, before exhaling. "You're so young."

Arthur's expression rapidly turned to concern at Merlin's words, reaching up to take the other man's hand in his own. They remained like that for what seemed like hours, ignoring the world around them, until Merlin looked away. Dashing his hand over his eyes, he turned away, knowing instinctively that Arthur would follow, for Merlin was the key to his first life and all his lives in between. Merlin lost himself in the beat of his footprints along the pavement, his thoughts flowing over one another urgently. Part of him rejoiced in Arthur's awakening, because _gods_ he had missed him, but he quashed those thoughts, drowning in sorrow instead. Arthur would barely get a chance to live this time round before his life was snuffed out, before the cycle would begin all over again.

An arm grabbed him round the waist, throwing him out of his thoughts suddenly. "Stop ignoring me."

Merlin smiled weakly, unable to meet Arthur's eyes. "Forgive me Sire. I'd forgotten how short your attention span is."

Arthur frowned, dissatisfied with the feeble reply, and searched Merlin's face. "You do know it's not your fault?" He asked suddenly. Merlin's only answer was to look down at the ground. Arthur groaned and pulled back, moving to lean against a wall, head tipped back. "_Mer_lin."

"You are aware I'm magic, I assume? And it's my magic that returns your memories?" Merlin snapped, unable to control the hurt and anger at the situation any more. "I as good as murder you, Arthur, I bring about your awakening and therefore your death!" He stopped, aware he had said too much. Ducking his head nervously, he watched Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

Arthur lowered his head, looking straight at Merlin. "So. You started the Great War?"

Merlin took a deep breath. "Well, no, but-"

"Or Hastings? What about that? The plague? I wasn't aware you could turn yourself into a rat, Merlin." Merlin's head shot up. There was a smirk on Arthur's face as he reached out his arm, grabbing hold of the other man.

Allowing himself to be pulled in, Merlin shook his head. "I'm not sure you're getting it." He murmured.

"Give me _some_ credit, Merlin. I have lived this several times before." Arthur rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around the taller man. After a few brief moments of silence, Arthur spoke again, hesitant of worrying Merlin. "It's usually about a year, right?"

Merlin froze, before nodding quickly.

"So…what do you want to do?"

The warlock frowned. "It's-you're supposed to, you know-"

"Eloquent as always, Merlin. And yes, I do realise that I'm meant to be preparing myself, but after so many lives, do I really need more practice at being me? Albion will need me soon. But I need you. I can't promise we will have time together, but I'm not prepared to waste this year with you."

Merlin nodded mutely, caught up in the image in front of him. The man of this lifetime might be young, but he was still _Arthur_. He would never be immune to Arthur's death, it would always hurt, but he could enjoy the short time they had together. He allowed himself to relax, to enjoy the longed for warmth that pressed against his front, before making one last remark. "You got one thing right."

"What's that?" Arthur's voice was wry in his ear, and Merlin grinned.

"Arthur would be nothing without Merlin."

*****

Because I am a gigantic sap, apparently.


End file.
